


reunion

by lysitheas



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Affection and fluff, Cuddling, F/M, Kaze/Effie if you squint, Kissing, Self-Indulgent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mini oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysitheas/pseuds/lysitheas
Summary: Corrin returns from a mission and Xander only finds it right he should greet her.
Relationships: Marx | Xander/My Unit | Kamui | Corrin
Kudos: 20





	reunion

The camp stretches before Xander even with the long length possessing his gait, his exhaustion from battle unnecessarily furthering his perception of the length of his intended path. The heaviness of his footsteps clad in his armored boots are yet quieted with the softness of the blades of grass underneath each step, Siegfried at its rightful position at his side. The hour is late, the sun having retired from its reign of the sky long ago now, and most of the camp have taken to their sleep save for the soldiers assigned to the night shift guarding the camp from any threat. Even with the onyx darkness of the night casting upon their gazes, his figure of intimidation is not to go without notice, earning him a straigtening of their shoulders and spines beneath the heaviness of their traditional Nohrian armor.

Perhaps if he has not been occupied with the thoughts that lay with another he would have cast a glaze of reprimanding a soldier whose weapon appears lacking cleanliness from the previous battle. The soldier is spared of a scolding of the crown prince himself that night. Most specifically he is thinking of the news that had just arrived to him moments ago, the announcement of the arrival of another into camp from the mission that has occupied days of their time. Immediately Xander had risen from the oaken desk of his temporary study situated at the edge of camp and makes his way to his own personal tent, a suspect spot of where he’ll find one princess of Nohr.

A pale rose painted blur that is Effie overtakes him in a pace that is brisk in the hopes of a reunion with her husband Kaze — further confirmation of his suspicion.

The tent of Elise is barren of all sound, which Xander takes to interpreting as Elise being claimed by the exhaustion of her duties or once again she has fallen asleep in the personal quarters belonging to Princess Sakura. Either way, there is not a hint of the presence of Corrin.

Now he expects that he will arrive in his own tent, its vacancy replaced with the presence of another.

His path comes to its completion as he raises the ornate gold trimmed coverings of the entrance of his personal tent, eyes immediately taking to the bareness of silver scarred skin illuminated with the golden glow of the candles. She already has taken to the removal of her armor, which likely had grown heavier and heavier with each exhausting footstep of her journey. Her movements are ever fluid in the candlelight, a stretching of her lithe body ever briefly revealing the swell of her breasts, a hum of sweetness accompanying her in her task.

It is the temptation that brings Xander to step forward with a sigh choked with the desire to draw her into his arms and kiss the breath away.

Only when Corrin has adorned herself with a nightgown made of pallid silk ever translucent in the dimmed glow of the candlelight does she address the presence joining her in her solitude. It is not the reflex of defense that she acts upon — taught to her time and time again by Xander himself, always informing her that she cannot afford to be defenseless. It is the reflex of a lover, lush lips parting with a greeting laced with her affection.

“My, my. Prince Xander himself comes to join me so soon after my arrival.” Her words are softened with the tenderness of her tease, her arms wounding about his body with skill that has been long honed with time. Despite his body still clad with his armor, Corrin finds it a task of ease to melt into his embrace.

“Did you really doubt that I would not be the first one to greet you?” He murmurs into the pale curls of her hair, loosened from its intricate style atop her head into a cascade of silver blonde curls about her back. A groan is drawn from his throat as he takes feeling of the medaling warmth of their thighs, the briefest of comforts after her departure of so many days.

“I certainly did not think you would drop all of your tasks just for me.” Her own fingers carding through his curls of gold, the ghost of a frown tinges her features as she observes a few curls are limp with a lack of life. “You have been overworking yourself with worry while I have been away, haven’t you?”  
“You are to be my future queen. I would do anything for you.” He murmurs before he finally takes his claim of her lips, passion hard against the softness of her mouth, a coy avoidance of the subject she has pressed into the conversation. His gauntlets and Siegfried have been long discarded as his fingers calloused with war seek the soft curves of her cheeks, a deepening motion of the melting of their mouths.

“Mmf…. Xander…” The singular word of his name dissipates into passion and easily does he feel her allowance for his domination. The candlelight reflects off of her low scarlet gaze, molten with the newly arisen passion and the absolute adoration she has held for him. Everything that is good. “You… Can’t…. Avoid my concerns.” Her words are fragmented with the desperation of Xander’s kisses, the desire of her body in conflict with the concern that will not be dismantled.

So clasped with the throes of passion, Corrin does not possess the awareness of her body being pressed against the silken covers of the bed. When she does register the touch of soothing softness against her back she is peering into deep eyes of mahogany, ever darkened with his own adoration for her, though ever yet as intense as the frown that he now wears upon his expression. Corrin knows exactly its meaning — it is a frown formed the ever increasing weight of the war upon his shoulders, burdens that he refuses to share with others and nothing that would convince him out of his dead set determination.

“As I said before, my prince. You were overwrought with worry since I’ve been gone.” Slowly do the words escape her, the lightness of her fingers pressing against the tension of his jaw. Her voice no longer is laced with the lust for his kisses even if it is heavy with the recovery of her breath. “And you do know that I make a good listener, hm?”

“You were away on a mission potentially dangerous for you.” His voice is low as he eventually comes to pull his weight from their shared bed and beginning the process of the removal of his remaining pieces of armor. “It is natural for me to worry about my lover when I am not there with her.” It is an explanation of curtness, though her certainly does not intend to be harsh in his words, he does not believe that Corrin’s own worry of him is necessary.

He only hears the sound of a gentle sigh escaping her lips as he focuses upon the undoing of the complexities of the belts and straps connecting each piece of armor together. Corrin has taken to laying in a position on her side, the smooth beauty of her legs tucking behind her and head leaning upon the support of a hand. In the quiet blanket that now shrouds them with silence, a shaking breath is all that is heard as he spies a pale curl trailing into the crevice of her breasts, provided from the sensual neckline of the nightgown.

He knows not if Corrin is aware of the effects of her ethereal beauty, the possession of a power to draw him to his knees.

“You’re not just merely a worrier, you embody the meanings of both worrywart and workaholic.” Corrin comments, voice nearly touched with a dryness that would be so uncharacteristic of her. “Let’s not pretend that I haven’t seen the gray tinging your skin, the darkness under your eyes.” The words descend into a feeling of her own gentle observation.

“I want to keep to the vow that I have made to you.” Xander murmurs slowly as his hands now work at the knotted cravat at his throat. He has shed the ornate onyx colored armor complimented with the gold of royalty, a process that is now an instinct for him, as the armor is truly a second skin to him. Crown Prince Xander of the armor has departed and now enters Xander in the flesh, easy to bleed and as human as any of the soldiers under his command. “The vow to end this war and to remain at your side forever.”

Though neither of them require his words to have remembrance of the vow given to her, as they had stood in the secrecy of a forest, entangled with themselves and the love that had blossomed.

The endless books stacked upon a desk of study, dusted with the lack of Corrin’s use, are in possession of the ancient knowledge of the conflict between Nohr and Hoshido, bound by not a string of lovers, but rather bound with a string destining them to forever be enemies. The path ending in peace and friendship is an impossibility according the many stories that fill the volumes, and Xander must shut his eyes in defiance of the words threatening to haunt him.

Ever threatening to end his vow with force, the war forever continued and Corrin lost to him forever. Without dear Corrin, he could never continue his fight, at last he could not continue as the same man.

He has long come to realize that it is the very existence of his beloved Corrin that guides the light of his life, his heart ever beating because of the warmth she provides.

And he also realizes that this is no mere small thing to only consider.

“As do I also wish that our vows will be fulfilled.” Corrin is ever gentle in her words as she departs the bed to stand before him. They stand with one another in view of the vanity’s mirror, her ethereal beauty quite a contrast against his jagged handsomeness long scarred with the war. Her ever nimble, long fingers unlace the knot cravat and once more is Xander drawing in a breath that is deep, her body against his in a molten warmth. “But you do not have to bear these vows alone, remember? They are vows for each other.”

Xander groans with all of the emotion that has run him ragged and melts all too easily into the warmth provided by Corrin. The words of Corrin are only of the truth, the sweet gentleness of her words drawing him to a state of weakness, a state in which only Corrin is permitted to see.

“Look at me, darling.” Corrin murmurs, her skillful fingers once more brushing across his cheek and the other hand finding the solid strength of his chest. “These vows will be fulfilled, yes? You do not have to shoulder the burdens alone.”

“Corrin, I am to become king, I must be—-“ His words are entranced with silence with only a touch of her fingers.

“Yes, you will be king. But you are also very human.” Her hand stills upon the skin above his beating heart, a reminder to him of his nature. “You cannot do this alone.”

Corrin knows well that Xander would give her anything that she wanted. She also knows that Xander is his own greatest enemy of ever selfless, giving nature and he’ll not realize he is shedding his own soul. Not even realizing she is there at his side.

“You surely cannot hope to achieve the impossible, my love.” Corrin secures her hand within the curls of Xander’s hair, a gaze deep into his eyes to convince him of her resolve. “At least not without me by your side.” She murmurs, bringing her lips against his own once more, a whisper of a kiss. “We’ll do this together, okay?”


End file.
